


The Diary of the Studio P-Sychiatrist

by IHearttheHitachiinTwins



Category: Animaniacs
Genre: An exploration of all the serious bits we never got to see, Cute, Dr Scratchandsniff isn't being paid enough for what he deals with, Family, Gen, Orphans, Protective Siblings, Siblings, Yakko is a good big brother, Yet angsty, because i can't help myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 10:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15071084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHearttheHitachiinTwins/pseuds/IHearttheHitachiinTwins
Summary: "Dear Diary,It’s still my first month in the Warner Brother’s studio and watching the animators work is still so interesting, sometimes I like to go into the studio to watch them. It’s a fascinating concept, how what is mere lines on paper one second can become living, breathing creatures the next. Watching characters bloom from the page isn’t something one gets to see every day, but it is an absolute treat. Usually."The diary of one Dr Otto Scratchandsniff fills as the series progresses. Exploring his relationship with the Warner siblings, their relationship with one another, and generally some of the more depressing and serious aspects of the show that never got the love I felt it needed.





	1. Creation

_Dear Diary,_

_It’s still my first month in the Warner Brother’s studio and watching the animators work is still so interesting, sometimes I like to go into the studio to watch them. It’s a fascinating concept, how what is mere lines on paper one second can become living, breathing creatures the next. Watching characters bloom from the page isn’t something one gets to see every day, but it is an absolute treat. Usually._

_Today, something was, unusual. Frank was in the corner, at his desk. He had been seeing me regarding stress lately, apparently the chairman wanted him to fix a bad cartoon. I had watched it in order to get a better understanding of Frank’s mental state, finding some way to make that garbage entertaining is going to be an impossible task. He had been experimenting with designs for a new villain. Three siblings who follow the protagonist and hit him with a mallet. Primitive, but still a work in progress. I just hoped that Frank would be able to maintain a level head until he had polished the designs. Apparently, it was too much to hope…_

When the cartoons first sprang from the page, everything went very quiet. Usually the animators announce that they’re letting a new character out, the real world can be overwhelming, so meeting them with friendly faces is a good idea. Everyone sort of froze as the three new lives looked around and got their bearings. They looked very young, big eyes absorbing the world around them as big ears twitched and tails swished. One of the animators came forward and kneeled to get on their level. She reached out to the tallest, and presumably the oldest, one (not that it matters when in reality all of them were mere seconds old).

“Hello there,” She said. “My name is Julie, who are you?”

The tallest one blinked for a moment before taking her hand and shaking it vigorously. Too vigorously. Now, it’s common knowledge that cartoons are prone to over-exuberance, especially children, and so the animators took it in stride. The newly born cartoon raked his eyes over Julie’s figure as he greeted her.

“Hellooooo Julie. A _pleasure_ to meet you. I’m Yakko, but you can call me any time.”

The toon dropped the snide remark with a sly glance to an invisible camera and the animators blanched. Wasn’t this character for a children’s show? They didn’t have time to ponder it, however, as now that the eldest had given the others their cue, there seemed to be no stopping the introductions.

“I’m Wakko!” Exclaimed the second male, jumping forward into view, Liverpool accent obvious despite the clear American twang in the others.

“And I’m… Princess Angelina Francesca Luisa Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third. But you can call me Dot.” Said the final one with a relish. Seemingly after a moment of though, she amended. “Just Dot. Call me Dottie and you die.”

“What is this place?”, Wakko asked, zooming around the art studio and touching anything that did or didn’t move. He flicked through sketches of a female lead in a different cartoon, little hearts appearing in his eyes as he took in the woman’s form.

“I dunno, but I’m getting bored.”, replied Yakko, who threw away the artist getup he had suddenly adopted, as well as a flawless copy of the Mona Lisa.

“Let’s explore!”, cried Dot, spotting the doors that led to the rest of the studio.

“Good idea, sister sibling!”, proclaimed Yakko, taking the lead and speeding out of them. His sibling followed in hot pursuit. The squeals of tires could be heard from outside, followed by yelling and screaming. Maniacal laughter rang out as the clang of anvils falling filled the air.

Frank stared at the blank page where his creations used to be, utterly defeated.

That wasn’t right.. They weren’t meant to be this… Sure they were meant to be a little crazy, most villains were, but what had just popped out of the paper was… They would be uncontrollable. He could feel it. He had failed. The Warners had been his best bet, and they’d fail.

_Frank quit his job before the first film was even made. I think it was for the best. What they produced… It made no sense. The jokes were random or dirty or wrong. They didn’t act like heroes, overshadowed the hero too much to be a villain, and they couldn’t stick to a script._

_Eventually they locked the films away and trapped the Warners in the water tower. I was treating patients for trauma for years after the Warner incident, they had caused chaos. Even so… sometimes guilt seeped into my bones. Thy were just children. Pests, for sure, but children. Sometimes I swore I could hear gloved fists banging on the walls of the water tower at night. Sometimes I swear I can hear crying, singing, strange noises coming from the inside. People told me that they were probably doing it to be a nuisance, and to ignore them. Everyone else did._

_Time passed, and the staff moved on.  Went from being the youngest staff member in the studio, to being one of the oldest. Time passed and there came a time where I could look out at the water tower and forget what I once heard from inside of it. Time passed, and I moved on._

_Until sixty years later._


	2. The Great Escape

_Dear Diary,_

_I, the great Otto Scratchandsniff, have admitted defeat. The Warner Brothers (and sister) are too much for me to handle. Maybe if I were forty years younger and could chase them around as they run and jump and zoom and gag and be zany, but not now. I take them through the tests and the games and the talks and they just take nothing seriously! It is like dealing with children! While they look young, they have been alive for now sixty years, and they need to act their age, even just a little. I have been placed in charge of taking care of them, and more importantly, making sure that they don’t break anything!_

_While I am so, unbelievably frustrated by their antics, I do have to wonder, how much of this is cabin fever? They seem to have become only more uncontrollable since I first saw them, and I am certain that the event has exaggerated itself in my head over time. How much of this could have been prevented if the studio had let them out, even once, these past few decades? They literally bounce off the walls, but if you spent the past sixty years cooped up in a water tower, wouldn’t you?_

The Warners do crash eventually. Sixty or not, they were drawn children, and children they are. They do, at last, run out of energy. They fall asleep in the chairman’s office, hanging from the light fixtures.

“Out! Out! Get them out! Out of my office! Out of my sight!”, the chairman hollered, red faced with anger. Dr Stratchandsniff sighed and carefully picked up the sleeping children.

One would assume that his care was due t a fear of waking them up, and that person would definitely be right, but it was also due to how… fragile the seemed. When not in constant motion, they didn’t seem like the indestructible, unstoppable forces that they had proven themselves to be.

“Get them-“, the chairman began, but faltered when Wakko shifted with the volume of his voice, showing signs of waking. The chairman lowered his voice immediately and Wakko eventually settled. “Get them out of here and back in the water tower. Maybe we can keep them another hundred years, then it isn’t our problem anymore.”

The good doctor nodded and carried the cartoons out towards the tower. They were very light, unsurprising when you consider that they were nothing more than pencil lead and willpower. He managed to get them up the ladder and open the door. He winced at the loud creak that the safe-like door made. He feared that it would wake the cartons and they would all sprint off again like furry rockets.

They didn’t. The noise didn’t wake them, and he managed to get them inside. Each bed was labelled, so he set each Warner in their respective beds.

He had never seen the inside of the tower. It was a child’s room alright. Everything from a bunk bed, to a train ride, to toys. But looking closer, it was a sad thing. The place was messy in the way that only a child without parents can achieve. In the corners, pushed away, were toys for babies and books with simple vocabulary, clearly reminders od the days of learning to read. Dr Sctrachandsniff wondered who taught these kids to read. Clearly they could, as they had been able to read the actor’s names as they tore the studio apart.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, he headed back to the door. Lock the door and leave. Lock the door and leave before something happens. Then you can go back to ignoring the problem.

He made it to the door and clambered out. He was about to shut the door with a sigh before a voice came out from the dark.

“So that’s it then?”

The Dr jumped a foot I the air and turned to see Yakko Warner watching him from the shadows.

“We’re just shut in here again?”, Scratchandsniff looked away as Yakko stared him down with an unusually serious demeanor. “I mean, come one. We’re rusty, but this place isn’t exactly crawling with new talent. We brought this pace to life!”

It was an attempt at a joke, but it fell flat. The good Dr wasn’t in the mood for joking, and a joke with no audience is no fun, nor any use.

Dr Scratchandsniff wondered if that could have a detrimental effect on a cartoon’s mind, being trapped for sixty years with no audience.

Yakko sighed and shook his head.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted. Can you bring some more books before you lock the door? We’ve read the old ones so many times I could recite them.”

The Dr waited for the punchline before realizing that it was a serious request. He made an aborted gesture with his hand.

“I will… see what I can do.”

He said hesitantly before making a move to shut the door. He kept an eye om Yakko as he did so. The toon could stop him if he wanted. Scratchandsniff had no doubt that the toon could zoom out of the tower, smash him with a hammer, or just pull some zany antic to escape, but he didn’t. Instead, Yakko watched the door shut. Dr Scratchandsniff could feel the toon’s eyes on him even when the door as closed.

The Dr went to close the door, and hesitated. The Warners had already escaped once, they’d proven they could do it. So no one would question…

As he turned the lock, one, two, three times, he left the lock ever so slightly loose. Not enough to be noticeable, but just enough so that the door wasn’t quite locked.

He tuned and left the tower, knowing he would wake up to chaos in the morning.

He suspected the sixty year old weight on his conscience easing, just a little, may just be worth the headache.

_I have a feeling that my life is about to become much more… Zany. I hope that one day I will be able to get a good night’s rest. Now that I finally know that I have helped those children in some way, maybe I can start to look at that water tower and smile, rather than feel like I’m abandoning someone._

_The chairmen will not be happy, but I doubt that anyone can actually stop these kids. They will continue to cause chaos, and hopefully I will be able to help them channel their emotions a little more… productively. Until then, I suspect my sleep patterns will be getting worse before they get better._


End file.
